Monday, December 19, 2011

On the end of an era (mostly)....



There are a lot of Christmas songs that I love. I made a playlist the other day on Spotify of just a few of my favorites (and I even managed to miss one...The Happy Elf by Harry Connick, Jr.). But one of my favorites has a bit more meaning this year than it has in the past.

Happy Xmas (War Is Over). Obviously the original by John Lennon is far superior to any cover out there, but I won't deny that I love the versions by Celine Dion and The Fray. Mostly, I think I just love the song.

I woke up on Sunday morning to AP news alerts on my phone that the last of the American troops had pulled out of Iraq. For a lot of reasons, I got very excited about this. It made me smile. All those soldiers coming home just in time for Christmas? That's pretty special, if you ask me. Then I looked at my Facebook and noticed that my uncle had posted a news story about this and all he said was, "Happy Christmas. War is over." and I just started singing. My uncle, being the world's biggest Beatles fan alive, didn't surprise me when he posted this. It just made me smile and sing.

Yes, there are several others wars that continue despite the end of the Iraq war...but we deal in baby steps with things like this. And just like when a baby takes a first step, we get excited...we envision the possibilities...we see the future and it's bright and happy and stable.

So this is Christmas. Let's hope it's a good one...

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Tuesday, December 13, 2011

On choosing differently....

People often ask the question, "If you could know everything about one thing, what would it be?" I've been asked that a lot. My answers tend to vary, but my standards are either dance or languages. I choose dance a lot because I love doing it and I love the way I feel when I'm dancing. Plus, because the Foxtrot is one of my favorites, I also get to listen to music I love while dancing. It's pretty much a win-win situation.

Languages, however, has a much deeper meaning than simply "because I like it." It has more to do with compassion and understanding that anything else.

The world is a big, fat, messed up place. There is absolutely no denying it. Despite all the wonderful things that happen all the time, there are just some really effed situations that are hard, impossible even, to ignore. And the reality, at least in my head, is that if we all just took the time to understand each other, things would be a lot different.

I hate the statement "War shouldn't happen." It's stupid. Why? Because the world is a fallen, failing place. And because of that, because of selfishness and greed, fights - even to the extent of war - are going to happen. It's because of that, that this statement is one of the most profound I've ever heard: Seek first not to be understood, but to understand.

There's a deep lack of communication that permeates the world. I'm exhausted of my culture pushing its American agenda on the rest of the world. We're a great country...I love my country. I really do. It's just that our ideology and our way of life simply cannot work for everyone. It won't. There are horrifying things that happen the world over. America is not immune from terrible acts of violence and disregard for its own people. We see it and hear about it all the time. So what right do we have to condemn and judge cultural behaviors around the world? No, we don't kill women over acts of adultery; but look at how we've treated the GLBT community for decades...decades! How is it different?

The fact of the matter is that when we refuse to listen, to communicate, to simply understand, we fall apart. I heard a story recently that was chock full of atrocities...and also one of the simplest acts of compassion I may have ever heard: a bottle of water. I can't, won't, and shouldn't go into great detail regarding the rest of the story; it's not mine to tell. What I do know is this: when a young woman watches someone murder another person for no apparent reason, and then offers that same tired and thirsty person a drink from a bottle of water, it gives me hope. It restores, even if momentarily, my faith in the human spirit. We are capable of compassion and of understanding...we just have to choose it.

This is why I choose "languages." I just want to sit and talk with people. I want to know people, to understand them...and I want them to know and understand me. It's amazing what a little effort can do. I don't want to push my agenda or have an agenda pushed on me...but maybe if we just took the time to understand the agenda, it would somehow become irrelevant.


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Saturday, December 10, 2011

On taking a giant step backwards....

Christmas is kind of an absurd time of year. It gets incredibly busy; extraordinary amounts of money are spent...on gifts and baking and electricity; churches practically go in to upheaval when it comes to Christmas productions and Advent Sundays and the like.

For me, Christmas has always been marked by these things. I love buying gifts for those I love and wrapping them in lovely paper and bows. If I could "replicate the intensity of the sun" on my tree and house, you better believe I would (can you say "Griswold Family Christmas"?)! My love of baking comes out in full force whereby I typically bake somewhere in the neighborhood of 500 cookies in one fell swoop. I've watched my church friends agonize over scheduling and participation and yadda yadda yadda.

Then there's the point at which I come unglued about the religiousity of it all. Christmas, after all, celebrates the birth of Christ. Or does it? Sure, advent celebrates all the reasons, big and small, that Christ came on down to our messed up world. But does Christmas, with all its spending and busyness and general insanity, really celebrate Christ? I'm not sure it does.

I read a blog recently about the entitlement of Christmas. I'll be the first one to admit that I've complained before about being told "Happy Holidays" rather than "Merry Christmas!" I don't like that Christmas plays and songs at most schools these days are now called "Holiday Plays/Songs." I think it's a little ridiculous. But it did make me think a little bit...why is it that I think I'm the only one entitled to have her religious holiday represented? What about Hanukkah? Or Kwanza? Or people who just aren't religious and simply want to have a day to celebrate friends and family and give each other pretty things? I talk a big game about not forcing religion down other people's throats, but isn't that exactly what I'm doing when I demand that people say "Merry Christmas!" to me or that there be a manger scene in front of city hall?

If you ask me, Christmas as we know it has far less to do with Christ than many of us Christians would have you believe. I'm all for the gifts and the lights and the music and the food, but would it kill me to step back and reflect, even for a moment, on the reasons Christ came to Earth, the manner in which He arrived, and His ultimate purpose in coming?

It won't be any time soon that I stop celebrating Christmas the way I always have, with all the insanity and lights. But maybe all of this is why I love Christmas Eve so much more than Christmas morning. The stress stops. The night calms down. Everything is finished. And I can go to midnight mass with nothing on my mind except the miracle of what happened so long ago. It's in the silentest of nights that I'm then able to sing about and reflect on the most holy of nights...

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Wednesday, December 7, 2011

On the most wonderful time of the year....

1. Wrapping paper or gift bags?: Have to go with wrapping paper. Bags are sometimes necessary, but I love love love wrapping gifts and putting all the pretty bows all over them. It's really hard to beat!

2. Real or Artifical Tree?: I grew up with a real one so it's sentimental, but also a giant pain in the bum. Plus, a real tree costs every year what a fake one costs once and it'll last for, like, 50 years. Economics, people.

3. When do you put up the tree?: Day after Thanksgiving. Obviously. If I had my way, I'd put it up the second Santa rolls into Herald Square (there's a girl out there, K-Spence, who is after my own heart in this manner...and for that, I thank her!).

4. When do you take the tree down?: December 26-ish. It's just not Christmas anymore. I also don't listen to Christmas music after December 25th, despite my mother saying otherwise. She is wrong.

5. Do you like egg nog?: Yup. With or without brandy, it's frickin' delicious! I love the chubby holidays!!

6. Favorite gift received as a child?: That's a really hard one to say. I always loved the jammies my aunt would make for us every year. And once, I got the sheet music for The Little Mermaid soundtrack...that was pretty rad, especially since I got to play it all for the first time on my grandpa's big organ. Yes, I played Disney music on an organ. Go figure.

7. Hardest person to buy for?: My brother. No question about it. Every year, I ask what he wants and every year, he says, "I dunno. You're so good at choosing gifts, I'm sure whatever you get will be great!" Sheesh. It causes me great anxiety. He gave me a heads up this year, however. He wants an LP...yeah, like that won't be hard to find.

8. Easiest person to buy for?: Leo and Suki. Just some rawhide treats and a new collar and they are golden!

9. Do you have a nativity scene?: No, but I really want one. I'm holding out for the one my parents have, but they won't be giving it up any time soon. I'll have to pry it from their cold, dead hands.

10. Mail or email Christmas cards?: When I do them, I do 'em right and send them in the mail. I love getting snail mail. It makes me feel special, so I figure other people must feel the same way as me!.

11. Worst Christmas gift you ever received?: I can't answer that question. I don't think I've ever gotten a crappy gift. Unless it was white elephant, and then it's to be expected.

12. Favorite Christmas movie?: Either Muppet Christmas Carol or Love, Actually. Or The Holiday. Pretty much anything but It's A Wonderful Life. Gawd, I hate that movie.

13. When do you start shopping for Christmas?: I try to shop all year long to save myself the torture of the holidays at the mall. Usually I have everything done by late-November. I'm a bit behind the curve this year and still have some things I need to get. Ugh.

14. Have you ever recycled a Christmas present?: Yes, but it was legit. About a billion years ago, I got these giant stuffed animals...one was Flounder, another was Sebastian. I think I still have Flounder, but my teeny cousin also loved The Little Mermaid so a couple years ago, I went through all of my TLM stuff and sent it off to her...Sebastian was in the mix. She LOVED him!

15. Favorite thing to eat at Christmas?: My dad's fruitcake. Put aside all your feelings regarding fruitcake, because my dad's is the shiz. OMG. It's so good, I actually asked him to make a tiny one for my birthday one year. Nomz.

16. Lights on the tree: All of the lights. All of them, ever. Last year, there was approx. 1000 twinkle lights on the tree. LOVE IT!!

17. Travel at Christmas or stay home?: As a kid, I used to go with my family to Illinois and Pennsylvania every year. By the time I turned 16, we started staying at home in Colorado and I've loved every second of it! I'd be okay with taking a vacation from Christmas for Christmas some year...going somewhere tropical and amazing for a week and just chilling. And there was the time we went to Paris for Christmas. That didn't suck.

18. Favorite Christmas song?: I have to categorize for this.

Favorite Traditional: It Came Upon A Midnight Clear

Favorite Campy: I Want A Hippopotamus for Christmas

Favorite Pop: Colorado Christmas

19. Can you name all of Santa's reindeer?: Dasher, Dancer, Prancer, Vixen, Comet, Cupid, Donner, Blitzen, Rudolph. Yes, I did that without looking it up.

20. Angel or Star tree topper?: Either is fine with me. I've had both. My friend has a disco ball right now, which is pretty much awesome. I don't care about the topper, so much as the tree topping ceremony!

21. Open presents on Christmas eve or morning?: It took 20 years, but we finally convinced my parents to let us open one small present on Christmas Eve. The rest we save for the morning. Santa comes in the night, after all!

22. Most annoying thing about this time of year?: That retailers seem to think Christmas starts in October...or, God forbid, July. WTF? Can't we just let each holiday have their own time?

23. Favorite ornament?: My parents have this gorgeous blown glass ornament with a rose on it. My sister and I fight over who gets to hang that one every year. I love it! And since she doesn't live in town anymore, I got to hang it this year. SUCKA!

24. Favorite food for Christmas dinner?: Gravy. Yup, I love the gravy. My dad makes the best gravy known to man and he taught me how to make it. I started as gravy watcher, moved to gravy stirrer, then graduated to gravy taster, and have recently been promoted to gravy adviser. YESSS!!!

25. What do you want for Christmas this year?: A lot of things. Peace, love, and happiness most of all...for everyone. For always.

Tuesday, December 6, 2011

On WINNING!....

I haven't won very many awards in my life. Most of the ones I have gotten were from high school. Some were awesome and some were just plain weird. There was the National School Choral Award (or something) which was a super huge deal and I cried when I won it. Then there was the one I got for going to same school for 14 years. Kind of weird. There were four of us that got the same award at our high school graduation. I got one for being the "Most Improved Student" and to this day, I have no idea why I got that award considering my grades were abysmal at best my senior year. I got nominated to NHS, which is pretty big deal...managed to do that in high school and in college.

But one of the best awards I've ever gotten, I got about a month ago, along with all of my amazing co-workers. It's called the "Cal Bears Teamwork" award and we won it for generally being awesome. There's something really special about being nominated for an award by your peers and superiors. Knowing that someone else thinks our entire little group is that good at what we do is empowering. We all love what we do. Our clients are great, our teams are fun and diverse, and on any given day we're all really happy coming in and doing our jobs. But it's also nice, from time to time, to have your work recognized and, well, appreciated. It feels really good knowing that someone else sees what you do and wants to commend you for it. Now, granted, I've only been at this job for just over four months, so my co-workers definitely deserved the award way more than I did, but it still felt really fantastic to be part of such a great team that day. It feels great to be a part of this every day, frankly.

Yes, that's an award. Yes, that's a cowbell.

And to quote my co-worker who won another award the same night: "It's easy to be this kind of employee when you work with people who already think that you are."

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Monday, December 5, 2011

On the most hilarious annual fight....

My dad's handmade Christmas village.


As pretty much everyone in my life is aware, I am absolutely bonkers about Christmas. I love the lights and the smells and the sounds. I even kind of like the cold weather, but only very slightly. Why can't there be snow on the ground and the air still be 65*F?

Part of what I love so much is the tradition of it all. There are so many things that I grew up doing that have sort of become second nature when it comes to Christmas. And like with other things in my life, it's hard to choose a favorite tradition, but there is one that I love because it's so funny.

The yearly fight over Christmas Soup.

My dad makes this amazing spicy potato soup at Christmastime every year. It's one of the best soups I think he's ever made. We call it our Christmas soup because it's got red and green bell pepper in it. But that's where the fight begins. See, he never makes the soup during the rest of the year. Only at Christmastime. There's a huge debate every year over when, exactly, we should eat the soup. Some of us believe it's on Christmas afternoon, for lunch (my dad and sister are in this camp) and some of us insist that it's for Christmas Eve dinner, before watching Muppet Christmas Carol and heading to midnight mass (my brother, mom, and I are in this camp and are clearly correct).

"Why the hell would we have such a huge lunch on Christmas Day when we're about to eat a massive dinner at 4pm?" I ask every year.

"Because 'dinner' should be at 6pm!" my dad retorts.

"Wrong! Christmas dinner is at 4pm! And I'm tired of having to wait 500 hours to open presents! We should just get to come downstairs and tear into the tree! None of this fancy-breakfast-tea nonsense! I want presents!" ....that, ladies and gentlemen, is my mother. Every. Single. Year.

So the debate rages on despite the fact that I have categorical proof that Christmas Eve Soup is made and served on *gasp* Christmas Eve. I even have non-ReadClan members that can attest to Christmas Eve Soup being, in fact, a Christmas Eve tradition. Those people have probably been party to the fight before.

So while it may seem strange that a fight is one of my favorite Christmas traditions, it is true. I love that fight. It usually results in all of us laughing hysterically, even if my dad does end up storming out of the kitchen at some point (we think that's done in jest, but it's hard to know). My family has never been a family that fights during holidays. Thanksgiving and Christmas are two of my favorite days of the year, simply because I often get to spend it with my family...a group of people that, despite the craziness and differences and annoyances, gets along remarkably well most of the time. We dig each other and part of that comes from these ridiculous traditions that have seeped into the deep recesses of our family and come out at just the right moments...

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On purple mountain's majesty....


I'm a Colorado girl, through and through. Born and raised in (or around) Denver, I've had some pretty fantastic experiences with this city and those gorgeous mountains out to the West. I can't remember a day of my life that I haven't woken up to see the mountains. It's the beauty of living so close to them. You'd think by now, 30+ years later, I'd be so used to seeing the mountains that I'm bored of them. That's simply not the case. Every morning I drive to work, I glance to my left and am all but blown away by how beautiful the mountains are. It takes quite a bit of will power not to pull my car over and start taking photos. Yes, this happens pretty much every morning. It's a battle of wills...do I stop to take pictures or do I get to work on time?

It's hard to choose a favorite memory involving the mountains. Frankly, there are just too many to choose from. Between camping, hiking, skiing, and day trips, it's too hard to choose just one.

But there is one that stands out and has for quite some time.

Several years ago, I went skiing with my dad. Just him and me, on the hill. It had been years since we'd gone skiing and I was desperate to go so with enough begging, he agreed to come with me. My dad taught me how to ski when I was about three years old, in our back yard, on tiny plastic red skis. When I was big enough, he took me to the mountains, shoved me in a class for the morning, and I fell in love.

My dad is a brilliant skier. Always has been, as far as I'm concerned. And I trust him intrinsically. So when we hit the hills on the last day of the season (yay, Spring Skiing!), I asked him - either bravely or stupidly - to take me down my first double black.

See, I'm kind of a pansy when it comes to skiing. I hate falling (mostly because getting up is a nightmare) and I'd really just rather have fun and be safe than go crazy and get killed. Black runs have never been my thing. I'm the only person I know who feels that way. So asking my dad to take me on this run was a big step forward for me. And I knew, without a doubt, that he'd coach me down the hill without getting frustrated and without me having a panic attack.

But there was another reason I wanted to hit that run. At the very top of the lift, there's a hell of a catwalk (the bain of every skiers existence), but that cat walk runs directly across the Continental Divide. From there, you can see for a million miles. You can see another FOUR ski resorts. You can practically see God from up there. That view alone was (and still is) worth every terrifying moment of skiing down the hill. I mean really...is there anything more exhilarating than being on the very top of a mountain? Even for me, the eternal adrenaline junkie, nothing quite compares to that feeling or that view.

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Wednesday, November 30, 2011

On the road I wish I hadn't traveled....

There are very few places I've been in my life that I wouldn't want to go to again. I've basically fallen in love with just about every place I've ever lived or traveled to. With the exception of one place.



Minnesota.



I have never hated being in a place so intensely. There are a lot of reasons why, but I really didn't like living there. Not one bit. It's funny because I wanted to go to school there so badly and wound up hating nearly every second of my experience there. What's even more funny is that the year before, I lived in Canada and I didn't want to go there AT ALL yet fell all kinds of in love with that place and didn't want to leave. I remember sobbing when I drove back across the border to the States.

But beyond places I never want to return to, there are feelings and times that I have no interest in revisiting either. You know that feeling of invisibility you have in junior high? Unless you're a very (and I mean VERY) lucky child, you probably spent the majority of those years either trying to be seen or hoping to be invisible...maybe both at once. I know I did. No one wants to feel like people are staring past them.

Or the feeling of letting someone down for the first time? Really letting someone down. For me, I'm sure it was my parents that I let down. I wasn't the best kid. I gave my parents a hard time. I rebeled a little in high school and then went bonkers when I came home from Minnesota. I know it's not ME that's a let-down...it's some of my choices and actions. And it sucks when you finally realize what kind of a crappy kid you were for so many years. If only we could know at 15 what most of us come to know in our mid-20s.

Maybe one of the more gut-wrenching feelings is breaking someone's heart and, in an almost karmaic fashion, having yours broken in return. Ugh. I wonder if that's part of why my parents never really encouraged my siblings or me to date flippantly. It hurts when hearts get broken. The recovery takes longer than any other broken body part I can think of (granted, I've never broken anything more than a fingernail, so what do I know?) and it's a break that often sticks around for a long time. Maybe even forever. We try desperately to mask that pain, but it's a scar that will stick around and there's no telling how long.

So while I love to travel and visit new places and, more often than not, go back to many of those spots, there are certain places and feelings that are better left in the past, never to be visited again. Like Minnesota. Except that my best friend and her family just moved there. Crap.

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Thursday, November 17, 2011

On the lonliest number....

but even still
the dark is not the gift
nor even the light that seeps
into it
but the knowing it
cannot stay dark
forever
though a cloud may
ever hang



Life, unfortunately, is not all sunshine and rainbows. Darkness creeps in and overwhelms probably more often than any of us would like. It's hard to feel okay with wallowing in despair and, essentially, self-pity when there are so many other much darker, but more awful things that people are dealing with. I look at my own best friend, author of the words above, and think, "Who am I to whine? She is going through something so painful, I don't even know what to say, let alone think."

But we're all allowed our own pains and secrets and darkness.

I think what hurts the most, though, is the feeling of abandonment. It's what makes the dark seem all the darker. And feeling my way through the dark alone just makes it worse. I was told recently, and it's probably good advice, to feel whatever it is I need to feel, wholly and completely, until it's out of me. I'm stuck, most frequently, in a mess of sadness, confusion, and anger. I never know which I'm feeling or when so it's hard to get it all out. And then to add the feelings of abandonment, disappointment, guilt, and overwhelming judgement? It's almost too much to bear at any given moment.

I've been blowing people off, preferring instead to sit at home and watch endless 30Rock and MadMen. Maybe that's okay...sometimes. But not all the time. I think I'm looking for escapism most of the time, a release from my current state of being. I find myself doing and wanting to do things that I haven't done in YEARS, things that aren't wise or healthy. But it makes me feel better, even if momentarily.

I just want things to be how they should be and not how they are.


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On information overload....

I'm one of those people that has a really hard time shutting down, going off the grid, disconnecting...specifically from technology. More often than not, you can find me texting or talking on my iPhone, watching movies on my iPad, and emailing/Facebooking on my MacBook. So, not only am I a slave to consumer electronics, it would appear that I am fully Apple Assimilated.

It's just that I love having information at my fingertips. I love that I can look up any recipe for anything in a matter of seconds; or find out what's going on in other parts of the world with a single click; or hear music I might never have heard had it not been for the ol' interwebs. This sort of harkens to my previous post regarding reading: I really enjoying learning and, for me, that involves quite a bit of reading.

So do I think there's too much information out there?

Certainly.

But maybe not in the ways you might think.

Sure, I get exhausted by all the bad news in the world. I can only handle so much Kardashian nonsense. And, frankly, I'm not sure I could care less about the NBA lockouts or the Occupy Whatevers.

The information that really gets to be too much for me? Facebook crap. Specifically, the updates regarding my friends' childrens' bowel movements and/or digestive pyrotechnics.

Honestly. When did it become normal to broadcast how ill you or your children are? And I'm not talking the posts like, "My kid is in the hospital with pneumonia; please pray." Those I get. What I really don't care about, what really IS too much information, is advising the status of children's potty training adventures or diaper expolosions or the like.

THAT is where I think the Age of Information has become a monster we are unable to tame.

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Tuesday, November 15, 2011

On people I don't understand....

If there's one type of person I absolutely cannot relate to, it's a Republican.



Oh, calm down...I'm KIDDING. Most of my family is Republican. In fact, it's safe to wager that I'm the most liberal person in my family, most days.



No, really though. The person I'll never be able to relate to is the person that says, "I just don't read."

WHAT?!

I really can't understand a statement like that. Maybe it's because I'm the polar opposite...I can't get enough things to read. I read an entire book (albeit a lovely children's book) in about 20 minutes the other night and am itching to read the follow up (it was called LOVE THAT DOG, if you're interested...what a brilliant book). I'm currently carrying two paperbacks in my bag along with 36 digital books on the ol' iPad, not to mention the countless New Yorker's and Vanity Fair's loaded on the thing. Oh and The New York Times. How could I forget that one? There's no shortage of things I'll be willing to read. Right now, I'm in the middle of a philosophy book (Consolations of Philosophy), The Life of Pi, Abraham Lincoln - Vampire Hunter, Bossypants, and a David Sedaris collection.

So yes, I love books to an almost disturbing degree. I understand there are people that don't like to read nearly as much as I do, but to just not read? I can't get behind that. Is there really nothing they want to learn about? Nothing that seems like good, old-fashioned escapism?

There's something really relaxing in reading. I love just lying on my bed, snuggled under the covers, with a great book, knowing that the end result is probably going to be the best nap of my life! Or sitting on the couch, all cozied up under a warm blanket with a cup of tea, with only a table lamp on, reading a book I've read a hundred times. Or finding a funny or interesting article in a magazine and reading it to someone else, putting my own spin on the author's voice and narrations.

There's so much happiness to be found in reading a good book, whether it's chic-lit or non-fiction, comedy, fantasy, or a classic, even a children's story. There's a sense of completion...of accomplishment when I finish a good book. It's another notch in my literary lipstick case, I suppose.




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Monday, November 14, 2011

On trigger points....

It's no secret that I'm a huge ball of stress most of the time. I've lived a significant portion of my life under quite a lot of stress, so the feeling is somewhat normal to me. Which kind of suck, when I really think about it. Who wants to live life in a constant state of stress...and subsequently, fear?

I've started to try eliminating stress where I can. I use yoga and general breathing techniques a lot and, thanks to the gorgeous gym at my office, I can run and do yoga/pilates every day for an hour if I want to. I've done that a lot lately.

Maybe the better idea, however, is to be proactive about my stress, rather than reactive. I find myself getting stressed and rather than try to identify what's making me crazy, I just try to make the symptom go away. It's like how I react to getting a cold. I treat the cold, but not the cause (which, frankly, is usually a lack of sleep). If I got more (and better) sleep, I probably wouldn't get sick in the first place.

So what causes all this stress in my life? I have no idea. A lot of it is probably because I'm very Type A. When my inbox at work has more than about 15 items in it, I start freaking out. This morning, it had nearly 30 and I about came unglued. Fortunately, I can hide the crazy from my co-workers pretty well, but having that much crap to handle really starts to get to me. It's like there's never enough time in one day to get done what needs to get done.

The fact of that matter is, stress is always going to exist in my life, no matter what I do. I try to eliminate it where I can, but it crops up around the next bend. That's just the way my life goes.

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On alternate career choices....

My very first college major choice was secondary education. For the life of me, I can't figure out why. Well, that's not entirely true. I wanted to teach English. The problem is that when I made that choice, I had just come off a summer internship wherein I discovered that I kind of can't handle kids, of any age. That opinion has changed markedly in the 10+ years since my internship, but I still can't figure out why I thought teaching would be a good idea.

I'm sure it has everything to do with my passion for the English language. I just want people to understand it, to speak and write it well, to generally sound intelligent when speaking their native language. Is that too much to ask?!

Probably not. In fact, since graduating last year, I have often flirted with the idea of going back to school to get my Master's in, you guess it, English. More specifically, English Writing & Rhetoric. Even more specifically, I'd get my teaching license in conjunction with my Master's. Maybe I'd never use a teaching license, but I think it's something that might be good to have in my back pocket. Who knows? If I'm really honest about it, I'd only ever get my teaching license in the hopes of moving somewhere far away and exotic to teach English...like Kyoto or Paris or anywhere really.

Not so long ago, when I was looking for a new job, I even thought about teaching at my (now-defunct) high school. I would have loved to teach middle school English...that age just sounds fun to me. Young enough to be maleable, yet old enough to have some semblance of an opinion. I now understand why my sister loves working with that age group so much. I could definitely get behind teaching junior highers.

So while I'm not sure I'll ever go the teacher route, I'm reasonably certain that I could love teaching English.

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Monday, November 7, 2011

On the fear of money....

I'm easily scared. There's no denying it. I jump when people sneak up behind me. I start shaking in line for a roller coaster when I know I'm on the next train (despite how much I love riding the things). I can never really predict when the bad guy is going to pop onto the screen during a scary movie. Things that go bump in the night make me lose sleep. The idea of jumping into the ocean gives me anxiety attacks.

I feel like all of those things are pretty normal. But the one thing that scares me more than just about anything else? Buyers remorse. It doesn't matter if it's a $50 jacket or a $15,000 car...I'll go back and forth and back and forth for WEEKS trying to make sure I made the right choice. I recently bought a new computer and while many people told me it was a good idea and it would change my life, I had to really question whether or not I needed a) a new computer or b) to spend the money. I mean, my current laptop is shiny and fancy (and pink, to boot) and I'm sure it would have lasted a really long time. But it doesn't work nearly as quickly as I do and sometimes it just pisses me off.

Jackets are a different animal entirely. I love jackets. I have far more than any reasonable person should. I have suit jackets and casual jackets; spring jackets and fall jackets; winter coats; statement jackets and comfy coats; even jackets that I use only for costuming (demin jackets. Blech!). So why is it, when I see a new jacket I MUST HAVE IT IMMEDIATELY?! It makes no sense. And every time I buy a new one (like my awesome black Calvin Klein), I get it home and instantly question why I bought it.

For sobbing out loud, I have buyer's remorse (it's anxiety, really) over things as simple as this amazing sugar scrub from Bath & Body Works...I'm stopping myself right now, but I really want it! I had anxiety over buying pretzel chips for my Nutella the other day. Seriously. It was like $3.

So yes, I have fears over things like heights and depths and the dark and, you know, being murdered. But the thing I fear the most is spending money. Sigh.  

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Tuesday, November 1, 2011

On becoming a monster....


It's no secret that I like cookies. In fact, I probably love them. My default cookie is a classic Oreo. None of this Double Stuff or backwards or even mint Oreo nonsense. Just plain old Oreos. I love them. I could eat an entire sleeve and probably wouldn't feel all that bad about it (I have a similar physical reaction toward pizza).

But there's just nothing quite like a homemade cookie, is there? I spent about four years of my life trying to recreate a grocery store sugar cookie. You know...the super soft ones with way too much frosting? They're so delicious, it hurts. And I needed to be able to make them. So several years and many discarded batches of dough later, I was able to figure it out (and it's my little secret).

My favorite cookie to make is chocolate chip...I'm still working through some issues with that one. I can't seem to get the consistency right, though the flavor - admittedly - is amazing. That's due, in large part, to replacing one ingredient with a slightly different one (another of my little secrets).

Gingerbread, shortbread, and oatmeal-raisin are among several others that I love making.

But if I had to choose a favorite cookie, it wouldn't be a cookie at all. You see, my life essentially revolves around Christmas baking and this comes from my dad's love of holiday baking. He's a master in the kitchen when it comes to just about any kind of cooking or baking. He taught me how to make my first sugar cookie, so I have a special place in my heart for that one. But he makes the most incredible fruitcake you'll ever have the joy of tasting.

Put aside all your bullsh*t notions of fruitcakes you can build homes with or using them as gag gifts. My dad's fruitcake (which is a recipe that's been passed down for at least three generations) is the baked good that I most look forward to. It only happens once a year (though once I did request it for my birthday cake...and got it...in May) so the anticipation really starts building right about....now.

If only it could be Christmas season tomorrow....or always....!


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Friday, October 28, 2011

On worthless memories....

Do you ever wonder why you keep some of the things you keep? I've been wondering that a lot lately. I have a ton of stuff stored in my parents' basement right now and they keep hounding me to get it out so my dad can install a dance floor, but mostly it's because I've had boxes of crap in their basement for more than 10 years and it's time to get rid of some (okay, most) of it.

Some of the things I found just made me wonder: why on God's green earth would I keep that crap? Notes from boys that made me feel bad about myself; cards from my 15th birthday; corsages from homecomings and proms; candles and incense (of which I found an extraordinary amount). We're talking seriously meaningless crap. Of course, I did find some fun things as well. Photos from my senior year that I'd all but forgotten about; my graduation cap that I had airbrushed before grad; a mix tape (okay, just the case. I wonder where the tape went?); all kinds of miscellaneous awards from high school; adorable notes from my gal pals in Canada and Minnesota; journals and notebooks; my list of Simple Pleasures.

But the question remains: why would I keep things that don't matter and/or that make me feel bad about myself? I read some of those notes and every feeling of insecurity and worthlessness just came screaming back. It was like being a teenager all over again (a fate I would wish on no person). On top of that, why would I ever keep old textbooks (especially those regarding any sort of math)? But maybe instead of questioning my past decisions, I should trash the trash and instead begin asking myself the following question:

Am I going to care about or want this is 5, 10, 15 years?

If the answer is "No," then it makes it pretty easy (or it should, anyway) to forget about it. However, there will be those things that I keep that WILL mean a lot to me, but will also cause me great pain when I find it 10 years in the future. Are those things worth keeping around? I keep all my journals and from time to time, I'll go back and read through them. There's some painful stuff in there, especially the ones from my late-teens and early-20s. Reading what I wrote ten years ago, I sometimes feel very guilty about things I did. I feel silly for mistakes I made. I feel shallow and disappointing. I feel reckless. I feel not worth it.

But it's in those feelings of worthlessness and despair that I remember how far I've come. Maybe that's why I keep some of those things. To remind myself that I'm not that person anymore, that I've changed...for the better, in many ways.

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Wednesday, October 26, 2011

On the taste of feet in my mouth....

No matter how nice a person we think we are, it's practically an inevitability that we'll act like a total jack-wagon from time to time. I'll be the first to admit that I can be a real jerk sometimes. Most often, this comes out when people misspell words or eff up basic grammar. Yes, I'm an English language elitist. So are a lot of my friends and I can pretty much guarantee they'd readily admit it. As someone who's devoted her life to understanding and appreciating the English language, it drives me absolutely bonkers when people mess it up so horribly. It makes me twitch. And I can turn into a real jerk about it.

Unfortunately, grammar isn't the only thing that'll cause me to say something stupid and/or insenstive...or just plain wrong. There was this time I was in Vegas and while pre-gaming in the hotel room, I said something so wildly inappropriate, it actually caused insta-sobriety. There's nothing quite like having a room full of people turn and look at you and say, "Why would you say that?!" That's a horrible feeling. And it should be. What I said was both out of character and out of line.

I think we've all had those moments when something we've said caused another person to be offended or hurt. It's rare (I hope) that we say mean things intentionally, but humanity causes us to act like jerks sometimes. I know I've done it. About a year ago, I said something that really hurt and very much upset one of my dear friends. The nice thing, though, is that she's a good friend so all it really took to remedy the situation was a simple, "I'm sorry...that was NOT how I meant for that to come out." A simple apology and/or explanation is all that was needed to repair what I'd damaged.

Maybe that's the hardest thing about it, though. When I discover -- immediately or after the fact -- that I've hurt someone with my words, it hurts my pride knowing that I probably need to apologize. It's so easy and so simple to say "I'm sorry", so why does that phrase seems to catch in our throats? Why do we feel the need to justify and explain away and generally not take responsibility for the hurtful things we say? It has to come down to pride. It must. And maybe having our pride stung from time to time isn't the worst thing in the world. I suppose there's a lot we could learn from damaged pride....

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Friday, October 21, 2011

On getting my next fix....

I'm one of those people that tends to have a really addictive personality. It's gotten me in trouble more times than I can count and it's led to me doing things that I'm not necessarily proud of. Fortunately, I was finally able to curb the crazy several years ago and have focused my addictive personality on one very specific thing.



Adrenaline.



My name is Micah and I am an adrenaline junkie.

I'm not even afraid to admit it. It's gotten to the point where I can't really fathom going to Elitch's anymore because I've done the thrill rides so many times I'm actually bored with them. I mean, I'll still ride them, but the thrill is lost on me anymore.

There's one coaster there that I'll ride over and over again, but it's really more for sentimentality than anything else. It was the first roller coaster I ever got on. The Sidewinder. It's nothing spectacular...just one loop forward and the same thing backwards. But that's just how it goes with addiction...you start with something small and easy, get a taste for what it's like, and if you like it, you go back for more and more and more. I'm always on the lookout for my next big fix.

I've done all the local roller coasters more times than I can count. I've done every Disney coaster and thrill ride they currently have. Universal Studios Orlando and Hollywood? Done 'em. In fact, I spent a vacation with a girl friend several years ago riding every functioning roller coaster in the state of Florida. We done good that year. We even managed to ride several of them at least three times. It was out of control. We were on an adrenaline high for something like four solid days. Coming down from that was, well, the crash was rough, to say the least.

It's been quite some time since I rode my last roller coaster. I'm jonesin' bad. I've spent a lot of time recently looking at coasters around the country that I need to ride. But there's one adrenaline fix that I've been itching to get for YEARS. I think I've been trying to get this fix for something like 15 years. Maybe more.

I really want to ride in a fighter jet. Like, baaaad. I see all these movies and shows where pilots are doing barrel rolls and flying upside down, hard left and right banks, and c'mon...when they scream straight up into the sky at about a billion mph? How does that not sound like the greatest thrill ever?!

Well, it turns out you either have to actually be a military pilot or you have to be in the military and win a bunch of big eff-off awards in order to get in one of those jets. And even then, those cats make bets with each other regarding puking and passing out. Plus, you apparently have to go through pretty intense training just to take a back-seat ride. Le sigh.

Is 31-years-old too late to join the military, kick some ass, and take some names, all for an adrenaline fix?

I'm seriously considering it.


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Tuesday, October 18, 2011

On the joys of losing....

I like to play games.

Scratch that. I LOVE to play games. Growing up, my siblings and I could spend hours playing either Trouble or Monopoly. We were those kids that would save the Monopoly board under the couch and keep coming back to the same game for at least a week. We were champion Tag players, too...two acres of backyard made for some crazy games of Tag, there's no doubt about that. It also wore us out in a hurry, something I'm sure my parents appreciated.

My family has always loved playing games together. For the last several years, the game of choice has been Phase 10, which has recently become more of a joke than anything. My parents take that game with them everywhere. I'm not exaggerating. Boston? Check. Jordan? Yup. The Vancouver Olympics? Absolutely.

I've never really cared whether I win or lose at games. I'd way rather just be having fun with my friends and family. It's just not in my nature to be uber-competitive. Games, for me, are always about having fun and nothing more (unless it's air hockey...then I get a little crazy). Fortunately, most of the games I love to play involve just that...having fun. Fun with WORDS!

My favorite games, without question, are Catchphrase and Taboo. I could honestly spend hours playing either of them. But really, I'm not even sure it's the fact that both are word games that makes me love them so much. I think it's really that every time I play either of them, I end up laughing to the point of snorting and/or not breathing. See, I have crazy-smart friends and family. And as smart as they are, they're even funnier. I mean, what other group would be able to get someone to say EMBARGO by using the hints "It's a bigger word for 'hug'" and "It's a long, flat boat." Seriously. That happened (though I wasn't there for it and just heard the story later, but still...that's pretty standard fare).

Games are just that to me...games. Sure it's fun to win. Everyone likes to win at games from time to time. But honestly, if I never won another game again, I probably just wouldn't care...so long as I could still keep playing games.



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Monday, October 10, 2011

On the cost of living....

The older I get, the more conscious I am of how much things cost. Growing up, I don't think any of us really understood what it cost our parents to feed and clothe us. Now that I'm an adult, I'm acutely aware of prices and there's very little I buy that isn't on sale or doesn't come with a coupon. When I shop for clothes, I'm hard-pressed to find items I'll pay more thatn $10 or $12 for. I have this thing about buying clothes...I have a ton already, so when I see something I like, I try it on then put it back on the rack. And if I still want it a week later, I'll have another conversation with myself regarding whether I need it or want it; whether I'll still love it in six months; if it's worth the cost, overall. That little trick has saved me quite a bit of money and guilt over the years. I even tend to do that with wine and groceries...though sometimes, I really really just want to make brownies and drink some wine, so I go for it.

That said, I honestly can't think of a single thing I'd continue to buy if the price was twice as much as it is today. Yes, even groceries. I can grow my own veggies and be a vegetarian if it came down to it. I don't need cheese, coffee, oatmeal, yogurt...pretty much anything I eat is a luxury.

I'm a closet technophile, but even that won't convince me that paying twice what I did for my iPhone is a good idea. It's a great piece of equipment and I love how organized and connected I am with it, but $400 for a piece of metal and some glass? That's probably not going to happen. Even my cell plan, I'd downgrade if I had to pay more than I already am...which does make me hope that Sprint getting the iPhone helps my case in the battle for decent rates with AT&T, of whom I have been a customer for over 10 years. I digress.

Starbucks, I sure as HELL wouldn't pay twice as much for. There's not a coffee in the world I'd pay $5/cup for. It's hard enough shelling out $2.50 every (or every other) day. And I actually have to save up to put money on my gold card.

Maybe I'd pay twice as much for black beans. I mean, they're only $0.89 as it is. I think I could stand to pay about $2 for black beans and be okay with it. They're pretty much a staple for me, so that's probably one thing on which I could swallow a price increase...


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